Where the Caravan Camels Roam
by Ohev Likhtov
Summary: "There is actually more to the story than I told of to you. I told you of the... Diamond in the Rough. Now it is time that you hear of the tale that brought me, Mutajawal, to the lamp. The Cave of Wonders is more than it seems, for... I don't want to spoil the story. After all, it is a long endeavor and would take a long time to tell." - (T for suspense/violence/unsettling detail)
1. Chapter I : The Oasis

**I do not own many of the characters in the following story. They are protected property of Walt Disney. ****Any barbaric nature in some of the characters is not meant to be slandering against the Arab people. I have great respect for their culture.**

References:

- All writing in standard form is the primary narration (narrator), in the third person.

- All writing in italics with quotation is the secondary narration (Mutajawal), in the first person.

- The word "**Sadiq**" is the name given by the secondary narration to the reader, meaning "friend" in MS Arabic.

- Some phrases may appear in MS Arabic. They are the following:

*"**Salaam Aleikum**" is a formal greeting.

*"**Tafadal**" means "here you are, be my guest".

*"**Sayidi**" means "sir, milord"

*"**Shukran**" means "thank you"

*"**Afwan**" means "pardon me, you're welcome, oops"

*an "**assba**" is the measurement for one finger width. A "**qabda**" is the measurement for one palm width.

...

CHAPTER I

**THE OASIS**

* * *

Far above the sands of the earth, a burning fury of fire and light hangs affixed in the sky, blotting out all sight of the

lush blue atmosphere. Scorching rays rain from this fiery sphere, causing waves of intolerable heat to rise from the

desert's surface; the Arab frontier. The wind blows in great force upon the golden dunes, forming whirl winds of

dust as they build up towards the sky, as if to climb up to the heavens to escape this forsaken land. Only the

sheltering shadows of a forest of palm trees around a small pool of crystal clear water exist in this lifeless land. The

gentle tropical plants lean together in a circle forming a canopy over the precious spring, sparing it from the sun's

unquenchable thirst. This tranquil oasis is all that resides, in such a solitary terrain, that breaks the horizon of its

seemingly endless vastness. From a scope within this shelter of greenery, nothing breathes, nothing lives beyond;

only the lull of a barren existence is seen.

But then, like a sensation in the unconsciousness of the mind, a mild hum starts to echo in the air. A harmonious

hum like one in the essence of a song, creating the mood for a ballad of great age and ancient tidings. As the sound

gets louder, it begins to form a melody coming from the voice of one who is talented in inflection and of song. Then

from over the top of a nearby dune, a shadow appears, swaying from side to side. As the glare of the sun moves

beneath the figure, it is now visible that the approaching silhouette is of an Arab nomad astride a camel of tall

stature. Only a whoop and holler away from the mystical oasis, a shrill voice bellows out from this Bedouin specter

with powerful lungs with the words like that of some timeless tale.

...

_ "I have come from a land, __from a far away place, _

_where the caravan camels roam._

_Where it's flat and immense __and the heat is intense._

_ It's barbaric, but hey..._

_ It's home._

_When the wind's from the east __and the sun's from the west_

_ and the sand in the glass is right._

_ Come on down, stop on by, __hop a carpet and fly_

_ to another Arabian night!_

_Arabian nights, like Arabian days._

_ More often than not, are hotter than hot, __in a lot of good ways._

_Arabian nights, 'neath Arabian moons._

_ A fool off his guard, could fall and fall hard __out there on the dunes."_

_..._

_- "Ah! *Salaam Aleikum weary traveler. I hope your journey has been __merciful upon you in the arid land of the Arabs. _

_Now please, please come closer to the pool and refresh yourself. *Tafadal__, Sadiq, use one of my finest ladles and quench _

_your thirst. Quite an __ideal model if I may say so myself, made from __the finest..."_

_"Why stranger __have we met __before? Your face... __it seems so familiar. Have we happened __to cross ways in the __grand city... _

_of Aghrabah? Yes, now I remember. You __are the traveler I told of the __true tale of Aladdin and his lamp, no? If __so, __that is _

_wonderful! For I have fixed and improved my coffee and julienne fry __maker! Look at this, yes, and see. It is __now __more _

_durable and moisture __efficient. It will not sink, will not..._

_...it sunk."_

_"Oh well, I have plenty more merchandise to present... but now I can see __that you are still perplexed about Aladdin's _

_lamp. I see that your interest in __it has grown __very much. There is actually more to the story than I told of to __you. I told _

_you of the... Diamond in the Rough. Now it is time that you hear __of the tale that brought __me, Mutajawal, to the lamp.__ The _

_Cave of Wonders is more than it __seems, for... __I __don't want to spoil the story. After all, it is a long endeavor and would __take _

_a __long time to tell."_

_"Oh! You want to hear the tale of the Scarab __Gem __of Ard Al-Mawt? But __surely you must be weary after your journey __that _

_you would want to... __Alright, alright! __Nice sharp dagger you have there, you can put it back __now. I will tell. Now first __find a _

_comfortable spot near this date tree. Yes."_

_"Now let me see. Ah, yes now I remember the tale's beginning."_

_"It started many years ago, upon an evening just like this one, over the __desert, __in a far off part of the world,_

_ where the caravan camels roam..."_


	2. Chapter II : Raiders and Daggers

CHAPTER II

**RAIDERS AND DAGGERS**

* * *

The last signs of day from the setting sun shown upon the dense, murky fog that lingered over the shore of the

papyrus-ridden river. A cool arid breeze blew upon the gentle rushes, causing the fog to wisp over the waters, then

to enshroud the marshlands beyond. Orange and pink light cascaded the sky looming over a towering range of

mountains, turning them a tint of rouge lightly upon their domed peaks. The grand mount resembled an oriental

lantern illuminating in a halo of light. The whole scene appeared mystical and enchanting over the lush delta of the

renowned Nile.

As the flaming horizon welcomed the great sinking Sol, a wall of darkness began to envelope the land. Devouring

the desert and foliage of the river, it glided with great haste, until it came to the foot of the tall mount. There it

stopped, as if intimidated by its monstrous size. Like long talons, the ledges began to create shadows upon their

redden clefts as the darkness commenced its climb up the rocky basin with a wide conquering swipe.

When suddenly, just above the advancing blackness, twelve lurking shadows emerged, unlike any of the other

shadows. For these shapes were climbing across the rocky face, not up it toward the peaks. In agile unity, they

scaled the precipice like a gang of demonic creatures from the underworld. As quick as a flash, they were gone;

engulfed by the pitch-darkness.

No moon revealed its face in the night sky, only the stars lit the heavens far above the desert. The mountains were

eerie and ominous in the starlight. Due to the deceptions of ones eyes to the dark, the mount appeared to enlarge

like a confronting mass that overcomes ones vision in a nightmare. Then there was nothing.

But then, in the nothingness, a loud muffled scratch was heard like a match being struck. A light appeared in the

darkness as it hovered in the air. The surrounding rock face lit up from the flame as it ignited upon a long bulky

torch. A long, hairy, tanned arm raised the torch closer to the wall as an archway emanated from the carved-out

stone. Hieroglyphic writing decorated the slab door, symbolizing the art of a by-gone age. From behind the light, a

vicious voice called out in a loud whisper.

- "This is the spot men. The Tomb of Hamanral."

As the fire traveled across the limestone frame in a high arc, an ugly face appeared in the dark; the face of a man

cloaked in a black shroud. His teeth were yellow and deformed and silver piercings hung from his lobes. In a

dastardly voice, he said,

-"It's a pity we have to bust it down."

With two swift motions of his hand, he summoned over two beastly men, armed from head to foot. In their massive

hands they bore solid iron mallets, with which they commenced to lay heavy blows upon the archaic door.

-"Nothing can stop Calif and his eleven cutthroats from getting what they want,"

their leader bellowed in dignity.

"This night, the treasure will be ours for the taking!"

With one final blow upon the door, an echo and then a rumble grew from behind the portal. The two stone cutters

staggered back in confusion as the slab disintegrated into a pile of rubble like sand in an hour glass. From the

cavernous hole, a roaring wind blew out upon the surprised raiders, snuffing out their torches. The men's turbans

unraveled into their squinting faces as the last gusting gale blew over their heads into the open space with an

audible haunting screech. Flabbergasted and speechless, the men inched their way to the dark, long passage

before them, jittery from the cold, musty tempest. Fear was in their eyes, for they could not help but think of ghosts

and spirits taking refuge in the tomb. Calif was burning mad at his pitiful minions. In a loathsome voice, he barked,

-"Stop your gaping you mangy mutts and reset the fires in your torches!"

The men jumped at the ruddy voice and scrambled for matches obediently.

-"Gazeem, Kasul! Keep guard of the entrance. I swear I'll have your skins if you let anyone in or out without my

consent! The rest of you, follow my lead! The first one to disobey my orders will find a dagger in his skull. Now

move out!"

The band of men scurried like rats swarming into a hole as their shadowy figures disappeared into the long

underground causeway. Gazeem and Kasul were left behind, alone in their nervous state.

...

_"Unknown to them, sadiq, Gazeem and Kasul are the soon-to-be lone survivors of this misdeed. _

_Heed the warnings __the rest of this story reveals."_

_..._

The small crowded halls of the ancient tomb were steep and slippery, making the long trek to the heart of the

mountain arduous and unnerving. The atmosphere was hot and suffocating as dust kicked up from under the feet of

Calif's men. Their groans echoed throughout the cavernous corridors as they finally reached an open atrium where

two parting halls met. The room was decorated with carved and painted Egyptian art from the floors to the ceiling

above. The raiders stood huddled around each other as they marveled at the sight, until their leader huffed

impatiently, as he remarked,

-"This is nothing compared to what lies ahead. Hamanral's tomb chamber lies down one of these halls. According to

the scroll, it says it's found down the hall 'where the crocodiles swim above the prey'. Split up and search! I'm

watching you."

The men obeyed his command as they scurried aside the walls, examining the halls' frames and lofty ceilings. They

wiped off dust from the smooth stone bulkheads in attempt to make the confusing hieroglyphs more vivid. The men

coughed as they inhaled the dust, raising their noses in the air in search for pockets of fresh air. After twenty

minutes of searching, a scrawny cutthroat atop a ladder of men in the left passage cried out in a pleasurable

squeaky voice,

-"There, there it is! The croco-dingies over the prey! What does that make me?"

The relieved men grabbed the little pirate and began to dismount, tossing their scrawny load to the dusty floor. Calif

stepped forward between his minions, sending them sprawling as he looked up to the ceiling. There were crocodiles

painted on the stone, swimming along the length of the corridor. Calif's face sucked in on itself as he wickedly

grinned, knowing that the time was short to come. The raiders stood in front of the entrance behind their leader,

with their hearts set on treasure. Calif turned to his men with his eyes aflame, declaring,

-"The treasure is..."

He paused for a second in hesitation, but then he continued with confidence.

-"ours."

The men whooped and cheered for their leader with their fists in the air with respect.

-"This way men,"

Their leader commanded as they roared with victory, stampeding down the passage. The ground rumbled under

their feet as pebbles bounced of the walls from the current the mad band made. The gang laughed and cackled with

all the energy they could muster, when their festivities abruptly ended in their tracks. With screeching sandles and

flying dirt, the crowd nearly collided with a dead end of solid rock. The band huffed and puffed from lack of oxygen

as they gaped at the end of their path. One could almost feel the unpleasant tension building in the men as one

cutthroat approach his leader with a clenched fist.

-"Where is it?" he said in a riotous voice.

Calif's eyes rolled over as he leered with contempt at the ruffled man.

-"You led us here for nothing! I want my treasure! _My_ treas-"

But he stopped short as he winced in pain, falling to the floor with a deep gash in his temples. The men gasped in

horror, stepping back in unison. There before them, their leader stood over his victim with a soiled dagger in his

hand. Calif's face shrank upon his skull in fury as he hissed,

-"It's my treasure, mine!"

He lifted his dagger over his head and stabbed it into the heart of his fallen prey, digging it around before he pulled

it out again. Calif's distorted face came back to normal as he staggered against the wall in exhaustion. Sheathing

his dagger to his side, he turned to his men who were now staring speechlessly at the limp body of their fellow man

upon the redden floor. In a breathless effort, he said,

-"Take this wretch out my site! That riotous coward had it coming for a long time."

He kicked the corpse in the hip and then stepped forward to his men with his hand still on the dagger.

-"You fools! The corridor has only been blocked off. Behind that wall, treasure awaits and nothing will stand in my

way from it! You two! Bust it down!"

...

_"The men feared him more than ever before. They knew something had to be done to protect their rights to the treasure. Treason, murder?"_

...

Once again heavy blows were smitten upon an obstruction by the monstrous duo. Upon every smite, their vicious

growls grew louder and louder. The men backed away from their leader in terror as they covered their ears to keep

their ear drums from blasting out. Calif stood his ground with a sadistic cringe on his face even as rubble scarred his

brow. Pain was nothing to him when the treasure of Hamanral was in his reach. Their growls became roars of such

power that the ground below began to crack. Screams from the men echoed throughout the halls as they radiated

up to the surface.

Gazeem and Kasul clung to each other in horror, startled by the ruckus. When suddenly, a ginormous explosion

caused a sound wave to emanate from the cave with a crash. Both were slammed to the ground, tripped of their

head dresses. They picked themselves up painfully from the aftermath, shaken like a rattle. Staring at each other,

they had the haunting feeling that demons had smitten their fellow raiders out of existence.

Out of the darkness of the halls, two red eyes glowed like a cobra; unblinking and demonic. Glaring to the side, the

eyes leered as a torch lit to their side, revealing the dusty and red face of Calif. The torch's light lit the room where

his men crouched pitifully on the ground. Calif puffed with distaste as he turned away to his faithful guards, who

now were bowing in respect, ushering him into the opening they had created. Calif entered with dignity as he

stepped into the chamber of Hamanral. His men followed his lead from behind in silent expectancy as they cleaned

out their ears and regained their footing.

Within the vast chamber, cob webs and dust lingered in the air. Calif approached the center of the room, where a

large stone casket lay half opened. As he whipped his torch around the chamber, he saw nothing more; no

glittering treasure, nothing. Calif in an unnatural panic, glided around the room feeling the walls and inspecting

every corner. In a pitiful wail, he cried,

"Where is the treasure? Where is the treasure of Hamanral!"

His men were shocked at the void room. In silent mourning, they regretted their fruitless sacrifices. In a fit of rage,

Calif banged against the wall like a spoiled brat, turned his back, and leaned against it with a wild madness in his

eyes. From a distance, his men watched in disbelief as their leader slowly went insane.

Like a madman, Calif began to laugh maniacally as he slunk over to the coffin, slapping his hands over his knees.

Then in an explosion of emotion, vicious anger seized his soul as he roared like a wounded lion, raising a clenched

fist over his head. With great force, he smote the white-washed tomb with a loud thud as if he expected it to cry

out in pain. Dust stung his eyes as it wafted up from the impact. Lowering his eyes upon the ancient casket, he

began to rub his hands over its smooth surface. As if he were soothing a kitten, he began to talk to it.

-"Hamanral, have you forgotten with whom you are dealing with? It is I, Calif bin Hassan Al-Abyad. Now tell me,

where is your treasure?"

Calif's men began to inch their way into the room, along the chamber's walls. Their hands were unsheathing their

daggers as they surrounded their leader, whom they were convinced was no longer worthy of their allegiance.

Calif, in an impatient and crazed voice, repeated his question.

-"Tell me. Where...is...your..."

But no answer came from the silent coffin. After all, coffins can not talk. But his mind became obscurer and even

more obscurer as an empty reply can from his adversary.

In a ravenous rage, Calif dug his black nails into the marbled lid with brute strength. His men stood back in surprise

as their leader lifted the slab over his head. With a war-like cry, he smashed it to pieces upon the floor. One of the

observing men declared in a solemn voice,

-"Our leader is possessed! A deep magic has taken over his mind!"

In Calif's single minded hysteria, he heard nothing else but the silent mocking voice that emanated from the coffin.

He peered into the casket with fascination at the gilded mummy case. But blinded by his hate, he tore the case off

its hinges. He gazed at the tarred corpse with great contempt. In a bellowing voice he yelled as he grabbed the

mummies wrinkled arm out of its socket in a last effort to quench his rage.

-"WHERE..?!"

Then he stopped his breath short, as if calmness had put a spell upon him. Something more precious than anything

he had ever seen in his entire life caught his eye. Clenched in the hand of the dislocated limb, a bright glow

illuminated in a golden halo. Calif's eyes gleamed with lust as he ripped open the phalanges of the corpse to attain

the marvelous sight. With his thumb and index finger, he slowly held the treasure to the light of a torch. There in his

hand he beheld half of a solid gold scarab beetle.

...

_"Yes, Sadiq, it was the Scarab Gem of Ard Al-Mawt."_

_..._

With childish joy, Calif turned it in his hands mumbling,

-"It's mine, mine, mine!"

His men stood mesmerized by the golden charm as they, wanted to get a closer look. With fervent ambition, Calif

dug his hands in and around the stiff in search for more delights, when he saw it. In the other hand of Hamanral, an

identical glow radiated like the sun. Like a viper sinking its fangs into its prey, he tore the gem loose from the

mummy's grip. With his hands in the air, he held both treasures side by side. They were two pieces of one gem, a

puzzle to a larger prize. Calif's eyes trembled with excitement as he slowly joined them together. His men nearly

passed out as they witnessed an extraordinary spectacular. The gem burst into a ball of light as the two halves

fused together into a uniform scarab of grand forune.

Like magic of an ageless world, it began to flutter from Calif's grasp as it came... to life. His mouth dropped with

amazement as he watched the priceless insect fly gracefully around the room. Calif went into hysterics with crazed

joy as he fell to his knees with his arms lifted in exaltation. With words like those recited from a prayer, he

exclaimed,

-"May Allah be my witness! For I have found the key to infinite power!"

Throwing his head back, Calif let loose a maniacal cackle, causing his men to cower into the entrance of the

chamber. Wind started to rise as the beetle whirled faster and faster around the enclosure in a streek of light.

-"Oh powerful steward of ancient sorscery, tell me the secrets to your power!"

The enchanting and magical sight turned into one of a demonic force as a red flaring light emanated from the ring of

fire. Calif's robe whirled around his arms as the gale became a typhoon of impalpable force. The horrified cutthroats

began running down the halls to the surface to escape their curtain death, but the whirling force of the chamber

sucked them back in again, rolling them like oranges across the ground. Then in a loud rumble, the walls of the tomb

began to collapse as the whirl wind dug into the stone like an ax. Calif rose from the floor, looking around at his

degrading surroundings. In a wail of anger, he cried,

-"No! No!"

Just as the last of his cry echoed throughout the chamber, a crack of thunder sounded. The scarab beetle shot out

of the chamber and up the corridor, causing the walls of the tomb to suck in like an avalanche. The men squealed

and wailed as boulder toppled down on top of their heads, causing an earthquake to concave the tomb. Instant

death seized the raiders as their limp body disappeared into their grave, deep inside the mountain. The beetle gem

shot over the two paranoid guards, traveling into the open space beyond. It sparkled up in the skies over the

desert lands, freed from its millennium within the dark tomb of Hamanral.

Down beneath the surface of the mount, within the clouded halls of the demolished chambers, all was still heavy

with the looming smell of death. Eerie silence followed the tragic aftermath of the tomb raiders' demise. But then,

out of the darkness, heavy breathing sounded from beneath the rubble. Calif bin Hassan Al-Abyad breathed his last

as he coughed out these words:

-"I will kill.., I ... will kill... that Mutajawal."


	3. Chapter III : Two Pieces of Silver

CHAPTER III

**TWO PIECES OF SILVER**

* * *

**...a month before.**

-"Mutajawal! Mutajawal!"

Out of the bustling crowds a hasty voice called out as it traveled through the swarming humanity.

-"Mutajawal, I know you're still on this street!"

People shouted in surprise as they made way for a stout obese man with a long entangling beard. He was on a

mission bound for destruction. Calling now in a ticked-off voice he roared,

-"Show yourself you no-good conniving scoundrel!"

Under his breath, he cursed unpleasantly, ruing the day he ever met the merchant.

-"I could ring the neck of that mangy vagabond!"

Bread baskets flew, fresh fish got pulverized, and apples rolled away from their vendors as the furious man

marched his way towards the city gate. There a camel lay next to a small stand where a sale sign hung in the

breeze. Worthless trinkets and odd-shaped exotica decorated the travelling thrift shop, sheltered by a typical Arab

canopy. From behind the cluttered display, a massive turban bobbed up and down like a beehive buzzing with

activity.

By the time the indignant citizen reached the merchant's business, his face was beet-red and his beard was

steaming from perspiration. With a slam of his fist, he smote the table, causing pans to wobble. Swiping his hand

smartly across the wooden surface, he cleared the display of it's merchandise. Pans and ladles bounced off the

merchant's turban, causing it to dent and begin to unravel.

-"Mutajawal, I want to have a _word_ with you!"

Like a white whale emerging from the depths of the ocean, the turban began to rise from over the edge as a large

round snoz appeared below a pair of hazel-brown eyes. His mustache brushed to the side like a push broom as he

sniffled in dismay.

...

_"He was an adversary customer I had had the previous day. The type you have to sell a pound of your own flesh in order _

_to please."_

...

Mutajawal slowly stood to his full height, which was not much at all, as he said in a cautious voice with his hands

clasped,

-"Ah! Salaam Aleikum *Sayidi! Have you returned to marvel once again at my marvelous merchandise?"

His fat customer shook his jowls in disbelief at the man's stupidity, as he hoarsely retorted,

-"Marvelous! Marvelous?!"

With his burly hand, he shoved a palm into his garment as he pulled out a mangled piece of machinery. Smashing it

upon the table before him in anger, he waved a stubby finger in front of Mutajawal's smirking face, as he bellowed,

-"Just yesterday, I purchased this combination hookah from you for two pieces of silver. _Now_ look at it!"

The merchant leaned over with a casual look on his face as he inspected it from every angle.

-"It looks in good condition to me,"

Mutajawal replied in a dignified way.

The man's beard shot in and out like a proboscis as he huffed in a ranting fit of rage.

-"What?! This pile of refuse! It busted before I even fit the potato into it's filthy receiver!"

With out-stretched arms, he grabbed Mutajawal by the collar of his robe, leaning in as he bellowed into the face of

the unfortunate vendor.

-"I...WANT...A REFUND!"

Emissions of rotten breath wafted from the man's mouth into the nostrils of the scrunched up merchant.

Mutajawal's lips puckered up as his garment slowly sucked him within it's neck, squashing his rubbery cheeks. In a

stuttering voice, he replied,

-"F-friend. D-did you bring your receipt?"

The man's eyes widened as he dragged the vendor closer to his face until Mutajawal's nose wrinkled upon his own.

With pursed lips, the infuriated customer worded out in a solemn voice.

-"You did not give me any receipt."

He spat upon Mutajawal's brow as he emphasize the "t" in _receipt_.

-"At least let me ch-check my records,"

Mutajawal added with a whimper.

-"I don't want your records checked, I want my money back!"

The man slightly throttled the merchant as he shook him before tossing him back onto the ground. Mutajawal

staggered from side to side, massaging his throat with a gasp.

-"Alright, alright, Sayidi. Are sure you don't want a replac-... Oh, coming right away."

The customer's fist was clenched over Mutajawal's head, hovering until commanded to pound the merchant deep

into the earth. Mutajawal dug around in his pockets in search for some cold cash. With a nervous smile on his

face, he tried to refrain from making eye contact with the most unpleasant sight before him. Pulling out two silver

coins, Mutajawal gave it to the man whose face was now distorted from the wrinkles of anger he had acquired.

-"Tafadal, Sayidi."

As he set the coins into his hand, the metacarpus began to contract mechanically as his phalanges turned red

before clamping them shut. The man leered at Mutajawal, still keeping his awkward stance with his fist still set to

destroy. The merchants eyes looked up toward the man's pendulum of doom, shrinking lower to the ground in a

cower. With a huff of distaste, the man's nostrils flared as he turned away into the crowd, lower his fist away from

its target. Clasping his hands nervously with a grin, Mutajawal faked a fond farewell as he called after his ex-

customer,

-"Salaam, friend! Come again anytime!"

He watched the fat man as he disappeared into the crowded streets of the Bazaar at Aghrabah, in hopes he would

not return again. With a sigh of relief, the exhausted vendor crashed face-first upon the table as he mumbled,

-"I would take the doom of a thousand deaths, any day!"

Lifting his top heavy head from his uncomfortable position, he inclined upon the surface of his stall, resting his

large cheeks upon his palms. Looking around at his surroundings, he beheld the beautiful day that he had been

missing. The sun was bright and the skies were blue. People were busy in their daily routine as they bought and

sold merchandise throughout the streets. Like in a peaceful trans, Mutajawal began to close his eyes, set for a nap

filled with dreams of multiple sales and well earned profit.

From the streets, to a passer bier, snoring emanated from his stall, causing them to take their business to

somewhere else.

When suddenly, movement in the canopy above Mutajawal's head started to make the fabric sink down as

something leaped on top of it. From over the rim, two tawny playful eyes peered over to behold the snoring beast

that rested within it's cave. From above, his turban made himself look even more monstrous as it sank up

and down caused by his heavy breathing. With a twinkle in his eye, the boy lowered his head down, in view

from within. With hands cupped over his mouth he whooped with a loud cry,

-"Mutajawal! The man's coming back with reinforcements!"

With a half drowsy explosion of stupefaction, Mutajawal yelled as he awoke with a war cry,

-"Buh-BLAH! Where's the fat tyrant, I'll clobber his blubbery..."

As he looked around with his fists ready for a wrestling match, he heard giggles in the canopy above him. Smirking

to himself with his arms across his chest, Mutajawal announced,

-"Alright, Aladdin! The gig is up now. I know you are there!"

With an audible sigh of disappointment, the boy leaped from the tent as he said cheerfully,

-"Oh, Taj! Come on, I was only joking!"

Aladdin stood before Mutajawal with his arms propped on each side of his hips. His little red fez sat with dignity

upon his head and his purple vest flapped in the desert breeze.

...

_"Yes, Sadiq, I know what you are thinking. To answer your question, I was friends with that boy Aladdin. I knew him _

_since he was just a little child. I was like a father to him in his youth. I helped him all I could and he gave me joy."_

...

Aladdin looked around at his old friend's stall. Pans scattered the ground, ladles hung from the side of the vendor's

robe, and pots lay in pieces in a heap below the table. Whistling loudly in a sigh of disbelief, the youthful boy

remarked,

-"My, my, my. That customer really gave you the wrath of Bin Asad-Haiwan, now didn't he?"

-"Tell me about it,"

Mutajawal replied miserably.

-"Here, Taj, let me help you out."

Hopping to it like a wiry monkey, Aladdin began picking up the pans and merchandise with agility. A wide gracious

smile spread across the merchant's face as he watched his shop get cleaned up before his eyes. Taking the last

ladle from his friends garment, Aladdin hung it up on it's hook. With an accomplished grin on his face, the boy turned

to his friend saying,

-"No worries Taj, everything's back in order."

With gratitude, Mutajawal almost cried as he replied,

-"Bless you my friend. Bless you!"

Turning, on his way to head out, Aladdin stopped when he remembered that he had something more to say.

"Oh, Taj, I have some things that I found that you could sell, perhaps."

Reaching up above the tent, he pulled down a small sack that was almost bursting at the seams. Setting it before

his ecstatic friend, he started emptying the bag with a delightful giggle.

-"Here you are Taj, I found a nice sash, a few spoons, a small jewelry case, and a clean blank scroll."

Mutajawal pawed through the gifts with a grin on his face. He pondered over the scroll most of all, because it was a

beautiful one at that. It had A golden sheen to it's handles and the paper inside was remarkably not soiled at all.

But then with realization, he gave a sly look as he asked in a cautious voice,

-"You did not... steal these, did you?"

With hurt pride written on his face, Aladdin responded,

-"Oh no, not at all! In fact, I found them in the waste pile out side of the palace."

In a sigh of relief, the merchant commented,

-"Oh I'm glad Aladdin. *Shukran, my dear friend. I am sure these gifts will come in great use to me, profitable uses

as well."

Staring at his friend with admiration, he felt that he should repay him with something as well. Shoving his hand into

his pockets he felt the edge of a round coin. Retrieving it from his garment, he handed Aladdin the shiny piece of

silver, saying,

-"Here you are, my worthy friend. Take this for your troubles and honest consideration."

Aladdin looked at the precious gift as it shown in the sunlight, but then he refused as he closed it gently within

his friends grasp, saying,

-"Your gratitude alone is more than I could ask for."

A warm silence hung in the air as the two held their position, until from above in the canopy, the queer screeching

of a monkey shrieked. Aladdin looked up at Abu as he howled with a pointing finger at guards walking in the street.

Aladdin gave a restless groan as he turned to his friend with a hasty farewell.

-"Good bye Taj! I'd stay longer if I could but there's someone who I can't afford to let get sight of me."

Before Mutajawal could give any response, the boy leaped over the tent of his shop as he dashed away into the

roofs of the bazaar with his monkey friend.

The merchant with an understanding smile upon his face, said aloud to himself as he wrapped up his new

treasures,

"That boy is something else. He has greatness within him. He may not be much on the outside, but it is

what is on the inside that counts. He is a precious diamond, if only they could see. He leads a rough life here in the

streets. Someday, somehow, I will make it up to him; that Diamond in the Rough."


	4. Chapter IV : Bazaar Experience

CHAPTER IV

**BAZAAR EXPERIENCE**

* * *

Turning to his little cove of exotic curios, Mutajawal began setting his new items to their places on the display shelf.

As he took out the scroll from the sack cloth, he marveled with greed at it's unique appearance.

...

"I could not help myself. I had to keep it for myself!"

...

With a skip in his steps, he trotted over to his faithful camel, Shadigna. Her eyes looked weary from boredom.

Petting her gently on her floppy nose,

he said with a grin,

-"Tafadal Shadigna. I have a nice prize to put by your side."

Hopping animatedly to his steed's saddlebag, he tucked the scroll within it's pouch.

As he returned to his post at his fair shop, commotion began to arise in the crowds of people along the street of the

bazaar. People began to talk shiftily to each other in loud voices as gossip rolled from off their tongues. The

guards who had caused Aladdin to flee, began to grow in their numbers throughout the masses. Three guards in

their white and black apparel passed by Mutajawal's stand as they stared suspiciously at him with

their eyes affixed upon his face. The peddler gave a dopey smirk, making him look rather homely,

as he tried to subdue their seemingly unpleasant distrust. They peered around his shoulders, inspecting the scene

behind him. Lifting the table spread from along its side, one of the men with bushy eyebrows and a thin chin, said in

a distasteful manner,

-"You better not be keeping anyone hidden at this stand. Because if you are, Captain Razoul will have your neck."

The guard motioned a slicing stroke across his neck with his finger to imply what he really meant.

Mutajawal's eyes almost popped out of his head as he gasped at the man's gory threat.

As the guards shoved off with a menacing glare, they journeyed over to the city gate to stand unmoved at the

entrance. No one would be leaving the city anytime soon. Mutajawal began to look nervously around the bazaar as

he saw men searching every vendor along the street.

Merchants yelled indignantly at the guards as their produce rolled onto the ground due to their careless

inspection. A few of the merchants had to be restrained and even hauled away.

Mutajawal's nails flew from his mouth as he chattered upon his fingers anxiously. Backing up behind his shop, he

attempted to escape the unnerving sight. As he leaned upon the wall behind his stand, his hands

landed upon something soft like clothing, yet bony unlike any clothing he had ever felt before.

Shock smote Mutajawal in the face as his eyes became ginormous from exquisite fear. Feeling around at the figure

behind him, he realized that he was not _alone_.

Pivoting around ever so slowly as if his feet were fastened to a spindle, the merchant

lost his breath when he stared up into the eyes of a scruffy crazed man. The man was one of the guards, but

he appeared as if he had had nightmares all his life. His clothes were all bedraggled. The faint light that loomed

in the shadows made the mans cheek bones appear to jut out. An odd insanity clouded his pupils.

Instantly grabbing Mutajawal by the sides of his arms, he whispered loudly in a desperate voice.

-"You have to hide me! Don't let them find me!"

Mutajawal almost keeled over as the man towered above him, practically lifting the peddler off his feet. Mutajawal

cringed in fear, to frightened to yelp, as he had the foreboding feeling that the man would surely pulverize him.

With chattering teeth, Mutajawal babbled out,

-"It's not me, NO! I did not know that the hookah was poorly made! I really did not- honest!

The man looked confused at the the merchant as he lowered him back onto the ground. The man reiterated what

he had said, now in a more pious tone,

-"Please, you must not let them find me. He must not get his hands upon what I carry."

Mutajawal looked at the man strait into his eyes, saying pitifully,

-"Then, you are not after me for my merchandise?"

Impatiently, the lean man blurted out,

-"Enough with your merchandise! You do not understand. Things are at stake here!"

Now the words of the man began to sink into the peddler's cluttered brain. Mutajawal began to probe, saying,

-"What do you mean, Sayidi? Find you? Things at stake? Explain."

Peering over his shoulder shiftily, the man pulled Mutajawal further back, down into a drab passageway

between two buildings. With his hands poised in front of the merchant's bossom,

he cautiously implored,

-"Tell no one of what I am about to reveal to you. You look trustworthy. There is..."

The man stopped as he winced slightly, resting his fingers upon his temples. Mutajawal lifted a hand in concern.

-"Are you alright, Sayidi?"

-"I know too much! He wants me dead! My time is short. His spell is slowly affecting me,"

the man grieved as he slowly squatted to the merchants level.

Mutajawal looked puzzled as he asked,

-"Who? Who has put a spell on you?"

In a wave of panic, the man began to talk in great haste.

-"The vizier must not have it! The scroll. You must carry it! He will find me without a doubt!"

Shoving his hand into his uniform, he retrieved a white parchment wrapped into a scroll. Handing it hastily

to Mutajawal, he practically tossed it into his arms as if it were a scorpion.

Mutajawal stared at the fragment of literature curiously as he began to ask,

-"But what am I suppose to do with..?"

The man cut him off, ranting rapidly as his voice rose,

-"Hide it, destroy it,_ falsify_ it! He needs the secrets it holds! Hamanral's treasure lies in the gem! He must not get it!"

With an eerie expression, the man continued with doom plastered on his face.

-"But it gets worse. There is another; the adversary of the adversary. He too is after the scroll! He wants

Hamanral's riches. He knows not of the gem, but he must never know!"

The man began to tick violently, flinching his eyes. He came closer to Mutajawal, causing him to start backing off out

of the alley. With his hands clenched at his sides, the crazed guard warned the merchant with an omen,

-"If one of them gets this scroll, they will find the key to infinite power! Stop them!"

With a blood-curdling screech, the man shrieked as he grasped his head. From a powerful force, the man went into

a conniption as he ran out of the alley into the street.

His ruckus reached the ears of the guards in the bazaar, as they saw him rush out in front of Mutajawal's stand.

With a last cry of pain, he screamed,

-"AR ARI XEPER TU!"

The man's heathen croon made Mutajawal's neck hairs to briskly jut up on their follicles as the words sucked

into his ears, locked inside his unconsciousness.

The man's eyes glazed over as he fainted, dead upon the ground.

People and vendors swarmed in a mass of curious beings like flies on carrion as they gathered

around the limp body.

Mutajawal watched from around the corner in the shadows of the alley, as he saw the guards disperse the flocking

citizens. With his ear directed toward the commotion, the merchant overheard the guards bark out unpleasantly.

Captain Razoul held the body's head up by the hair. With pleasure written upon his lips, he announced,

-"This is the man! Looks like the deserter _and_ thief got what was coming to him. Take him away. Search his body at

the prison!"

Mutajawal watched in horror as the guards hauled away the corpse. But before they left,

the captain lingered before the merchant's shop. With shifty eyes, he looked around as he glided suspiciously

toward the alley. Gasping loudly, the merchant fled silently down the passage, hiding behind a corner in the far side

of the opening. Razoul glared around the entrance as he watched the shadows. His vicious breathing echoed down

the corridor, magnifying his beastly appearance.

Mutajawal's heart almost stopped as the guard's shadow fell upon the cobblestone ground, practically a foot away

from the merchant's hideaway. Satisfied that no one was left in the alley, he turned on his heels smartly and left to

join his men.

Mutajawal slowly emerged from around the corner as he watched the street go back to normal. All the guards left

with their vile intentions, relieving the tension they had caused among the citizens. The danger was gone.

Mutajawal's heart raced like mad as he walked cautiously out of the passage. Concealing the scroll behind his

back, he strolled casually over to Shadigna as he stooped promptly down behind her furry hump. In the dim

sunlight, he looked at the parchment, turning it around in his little hands. It had gold handles that sparkled in the

daylight. Taking out a curved knife, he cut a cord that held the scroll shut as he unraveled the scrawled-upon paper.

Upon it were sketches of what appeared to be ancient writing of some old civilization; some type of hieroglyphic

script.

Above the symbols was modern penmanship in ink, written in a language common to Mutajawal's part of the

country. The words appeared to be interlinear translations of the archaic manuscript. Only one part of the scroll

was untranslated. Four symbols that were of a lion, an eye, a beetle, and a mountain. Mutajawal's mind began to

swim as he became confused at all the jibberish. But then he focused his attention upon the translation that read,

...

Within the mountain tomb of Hamanral,

All is silent from his deafening call.

Down the parting hall his treasure shall lay,

Where the crocodile swim above the prey.

...

The gem will lead to the cave of wonders,

Power to destroy or gather plunders.

No man shall survive to tell of the tale,

If found unworthy for him to prevail.

...

Mutajawal's mouth dropped below his round chin as the haunting words echoed throughout his mind. His thoughts

began to wonder as he tried to remember the exact words of the deceased man. He lost his train of thought as a

loud yell caught him off guard. His eyes bulged as he looked around the streets, only to see two men fervently

bartering rugs in loud voices. Mutajawal slowly sank back down onto his knees as he looked at the scroll in

frustration. He was just about to throw the cursed parchment into the thoroughfare, when an idea lit up in his mind.

...

_"It suddenly came to me. I remembered that the man wanted me to either hide it, destroy it, or **falsify it**."_

_..._

In a whirl of excitement, Mutajawal opened the pouch in his steed's saddlebag as he whipped out the scroll he had

saved for himself. Slapping both scrolls together, he realized that they were both the exact same kind. A sly smirk

caused the merchant's face to fold over his chops as he chuckled aloud to himself,

-"It is time to do one of my most profitable specialties: _falsifying_."


	5. Chapter V : The Warrant

CHAPTER V

**THE WARRANT**

* * *

Pitch-darkness shrouded the outside world from within the arched window of the hall. It was a murky darkness, like

a darkness with substance. Intricate woven patterns comprised the decor surrounding the frame, shaped from

a recognizable Persian architecture. Similar art decorated the ceilings above and the rouge carpeting below, spread

over the marble floors stretching the length of the corridor. At the end of the long hall, a beautiful balcony wrapped

far around a spacious atrium extended in every direction. The massive hall was enclosed on both sides by lofty

carved-out pillars; white-washed and pearly. At the forefront wall, a tall pair of solid-wood blue doors trimmed with

gold stood shut, waiting eagerly to open and usher in individuals of royalty.

...

_"But this night, no royalty shall enter these gates of the Palace at Aghrabah." _

...

From outside the entrance to the palace, three shadowy images scaled the lengthy stairway that led to the

sultan's mansion. They slunk up the smooth steps swiftly as they arrived at the towering doors at the very top.

From the terrace overlooking the city, all looked quiet and peaceful as the lamps of merchants and citizens burned

brightly in their homes throughout the streets. Aghrabah was truly a magnificent sight to behold that silent night.

But the silence was broken abruptly when a hand held tightly upon the door's ring handles as another figure

pressed it's entire body with a shove upon it's surface, causing the portal to slowly come ajar. The light of the moon

cascaded the shiny floors as the gate opened, revealing the vast space within.

The guard's foot steps echoed throughout the chamber, suddenly overcome by the boom of the door behind them

that reverberated off the walls. A low droning sound hummed in the air as the guards approached the

far wall of the expanse. There a gold throne shaped into the head of an elephant was hidden,

half in the shadows. Upon it's soft blue velvet cushion, sat a dark figure in silence. The figure bore a

scepter in hand at his side and a tall headdress sat upon his narrow head. None of his features were visible

in the dim light, but the silhouette of a twisted goatee protruded from his long, slim chin. From each side of his

shoulders, pointed epaulets jutted across his frame, making him look like a vulture bracing itself

to swoop down upon its prey.

In a low villainous voice, the figure declared gravely to his men,

-"You... are late."

Apologetically, Captain Razoul bowed to his knees in respect as he replied earnestly,

-"A thousand apologies, milord."

-"All will be well with you if you have succeeded in your mission,"

the vezier said threateningly.

The captain hesitated to reply to his master, until he rose again to address him face to face.

-"We have recovered the deserter, Sayidi. He was found in the streets of the bazaar. He was dead, sire."

The vizier grinned evilly as he looked up into his mind, saying to himself,

-"I have not lost my touch when it comes to slow, painful deaths."

Returning his thought to the here-and-now, he eyed his captain as he leaned in closer.

The moonlight lit up his features as rays basked his face. His eyes were wide and glossy and a savage

look of pleasure was written upon his skull-shaped face. His thin lips protruded as he inquired solemnly

of Razoul,

-"Where is _my scroll?"_

Captain Razoul recoiled like a wounded python as he gave his master an empty reply.

Jafar's complexion paled as his face sank low, creating an expression of displeasurable realization.

He sat back into his chair as he hissed out viciously,

-"He did not have it with him, did he Razoul?"

The captain pleaded,

-"I can explain milord, we..."

In a horrid roar, Jafar rose from his seat with his hands across his side, poised to slit the throat of his

despicable minion.

-"You have failed me! You will suffer many deaths if that stolen scroll ever reaches the hands

of my adversaries!"

The two guards behind their captain slunk back in fear several paces, leaving him to face his demise.

In desperation, Captain Razoul attempted to clear his name, explaining assuringly,

-"But sire, all is not lost! There is a suspected man who may have been in league with the traitor,

milord. A witness, a heavy-sided man, said that he had seen a peddler, named Mutajawal, rondezvousing

with another man in an alley. It was the alley the man was found dead near. He may have taken the scroll."

Jafar raised an eyebrow as he lowered himself back down upon the throne in a dignified way. His long

bony fingers wrapped tightly around his staff like the limbs of an arachnid as he mused over his guards words.

His knuckles whitened from lack of circulation as he became tense.

-"Do you have a description of this... peddler?"

Eagerly, Razoul replied with relief written upon his brow.

-"Yes, sire. The witness gave an entire description of the man. He was some ex-customer of the peddler."

Jafar's mouth puckered as his eyes bulged unflatteringly. With restless energy, he rose to his full night. With eyes

aflame from rage, he roared

-"Find him! Send out a warrant for his arrest! I must... have... THAT SCROLL!

His face grew red as blood rushed to his head, popping out his veins within his temples.

He beckoned them to leave his presence with a pointed finger toward the gates.

Smartly saluting their leader, the guards exited the chamber, leaving behind their master still poised in his mighty

stance. The vizier's eyes followed them as they shut the doors, embarking on their new mission:

to arrest Mutajawal.

Pleased, Jafar stepped down from the sultan's throne. His robe trailed across the floors as he swiped his cape

in his grasp behind his feet. Swiftly he glided out of the atrium toward the open space outside the veranda.

His shadow floated along the balcony, as he walked with his head high in dignity. Turning a corner with his neck

cocked to the side, he walked parallel to the empty wall. As he walked down the hall, his heavy breathing and soft

yet strident steps made the corridor feel mysterious and unsettling. Altering his course, he came to the entrance

of a room where his secret lair lay hidden in the walls.

Before he entered the chamber, he turned around elegantly toward an arched window in the hall.

Staring into the pitch-darkness, he remarked aloud in contempt to an individual who did not exist within the room.

-"Show yourself, you lout! I know you and your cohorts have returned to Aghrabah. I am no fool.

Your ravenous plans for revenge... end here, brother."


	6. Chapter VI : The Emanating Sound

CHAPTER VI

**THE EMANATING SOUND**

* * *

Along the streets of the bazaar at Aghrabah, vendors began to close up their cluttered shops and lock up

for the evening. Their lanterns and lamps bobbed up and down in the streets as their owners carried them,

lighting the path back to their humble abodes. Aghrabah was going to sleep for the night. All became

silent as doors creaked shut and citizens removed their turbans from their weary brows, tired from a

loud and bustling day's work.

Vermin scurried in the streets, in search for scraps of ingestables along the cobble stone

walkways. Their squeaks and hisses echoed in the alleys and passages as they quarreled over their rights

to leadership and their territory. Their eyes glowed in the dark as they leered into the dim atmosphere at the

remaining light that flickered within a small stand near the gates of the city. But the glares of the rats

were not the only life form that watched every move that the vendor made. Two pairs of eyes belonging

to two shadowy characters shrouded in dark garments lingered like spectres in the dark alleys of the city.

Their intentions were of the most villainous type.

The lamplight waved ever so gently as Mutajawal's breath wafted across the page of the scroll. The words

came flowingly from his penmanship, making his task more artistic. Licking his feather brush on its tip, his

lips puckered when he realized that it went dry without his notice. Looking back down at his parchment,

he saw that for the last stanza, he had been writing... nothing.

Grumbling exhaustively to himself over his fruitless work, he dipped his quill back into the ink well. With his eyes

wearily set upon the scroll, his wrist clumsily bumped the rim of the cup, causing it to almost knock over upon

the table. Gobbling like a rambunctious hen, he attacked the vessel as he tried to regain its equilibrium.

Wiping his brow with relief at his near tragic turmoil, he realized that the black liquid had been on the back of his

hand. With a pitiful sigh of complete and absolute misery, he took a rag from his side as he sopped up the mess

from his forehead.

-"I am so exhausted. This was not meant to be a big deal!"

he complained aloud to himself.

Tucking the soiled rag back into his pocket, his heart practically stopped as he heard a sound crash from out

of the dark. Whipping his head around frantically, he peered around in every direction in search for something

moving. But he saw nothing.

-"It must have been a cockroach. Yeah! A heavy-sided cock...roach,"

Mutajawal murmured to himself, attempting to convince himself that it must have been so.

Turning back to his work, he continued to formulate how he would falsify the document to a believable deception.

With a confused expression on his face, he exclaimed to himself in a reluctant voice,

-"Wait a minute! Why am I doing this anyway? What are the chances that this scroll would ever

fall into the wrong hands? I doubt that this... vizier knows that I even have it.

All would be well if I just sold the thing."

But then his conscience gave him a nudge upon the side of his mind, as if to say, " You don't really mean that."

Thinking deeper to himself, Mutajawal regretted his words as he remember the man who had died for the

information that he himself now holds.

-"I am already involved now. If I give up this task, these adversaries could cause chaos to the

land that I call home."

With regained bravery, Mutajawal picked up his quill pen as he said in a dignified way,

-"I will see to it that these secrets shall _never _reach your grasp, villainous scum. No spells or threats shall get you

this gem you so desire!"

Sticking the quill into the ink well, he withdrew the pen from the vessel, now filled with the black liquid;

like how he himself withdrew from his doubts, now filled with courage. Dribbling a little ink upon his robe, he

continued to write with great fervor, not minding anymore messes.

...

_"Little did I know, those very words that I declared would change my life forever._

_In times of triumph, and in times of defeat."_

...

The moon was bright in the sky as it made the sides of the clay homes of Aghrabah to illuminate in a pale blue

glow. It had been less than an hour ago since Mutajawal had continued upon his task. The light in the shop

began to become dim as the oil in his lamp began to deplete. Stuffing his writing utensils into a drawer, Mutajawal

began to clear his working space. Blowing gently upon his magnum opus of all falsifications, he rolled the

parchment up and tied it with a sash. He did not have another sash for the real document, so he left it unbound.

Slouched over like a burly orangutan, Mutajawal walked wearily over to Shadigna as he came to her side. She was

snoring loudly as her chops flapped over her snout. Petting her gently on her hump, he set the pair of scrolls

within the saddlebag.

-"I will find a place to hide the scroll after I close up for the night. Besides, what could happen?"

he commented to his steed, which he actually meant for himself.

Aimlessly walking back to his stand, his turban bobbed up and down as he tripped over his sandals. Arriving behind

his shop, he pulled a cord with a tassel that hung from the top of the canopy.

Observing vermin squeaked in horror as they witness an extraordinary sight.

The merchant's shop imploded in on itself as it folded into a large overstuffed sack. Due to the jerking motion that

mechanically erupted from within, it became a makeshift projectile.

Rats flew in terror as the ginormous load lunged into the air, landing upon the hump of the

unexpected Shadigna. Her eyes bulged and her tongue shot out as the impact squashed her into a fur rug.

Flab wobbled as her hump jutted back up to its normal shape, bringing the rest of her flesh with it.

Unimpressed as if this all was a common occurrence, Mutajawal lowered his hand as he gave a heavy sigh.

-"There must be a better way to close up shop. It is so exhausting."

Turning to his battered steed, he walked up to her, rubbing her ears softly.

-"It is alright Shadigna baby, we can go n..."

A sound like shuffling feet emanated from the alley behind his camel before he could even finish his sentence.

Mutajawal jumped at the ruckus in fright. His lids disappeared as his eyes grew twice their normal size.

Inching his way cautiously to the mouth of the dark alley, he peered in, in search for any movement within the

shadows.

"Salaam?"

the merchant called out timidly.

-"Is anyone there?"

His knees buckled and his breath came short as he heard only the echo of his own voice reverberating off the walls.

His heart beated violently in his chest as he stood completely still, listening for any more sounds. Only the thumping

of his heart was heard in the deafening silence.

But then Mutajawal's heart skipped a beat as he felt a cold and metallic object brush below his chin. An arm

grabbed his elbows into a dead lock as a harsh voice breathed over his ears.

-"Don't you move peddler, lest you wish to taste my blade from within your throat."

Mutajawal was on the brink of hyperventilation as he tried not to scream.

The man behind the merchant began to pivot around, turning Mutajawal with him. There before him was another

man with a turban wrapped around his entire head. His features were hidden within the dark fabric. In his

hand he bore a dagger, and in his other hand he held a rag scrunched into a ball. The man looked Mutajawal over

up and down as if searching for something. His mask moved around his lips as he hissed out.

-"This is the man. I'll gag him."

Mutajawal's eyes bulged in dismay as the man shoved the rag into his mouth. It tasted like sweat and dirt, making

the merchant want to gag. The dagger was lowered from his throat as they tied Mutajawal's wrists with

a cord. His bones became battered around as the bandits bound his entire body up until he could not move a muscle.

-"Ahmed! It's not with him. We'll have to search his gamal."

Mutajawal suddenly felt dirt scratch his face as he was hurled upon the sooty ground. Wiggling himself around like

half a worm, he managed to face toward the menacing kidnappers. Mutajawal wanted to scream when he saw them

tear the saddle bag open as they rummaged through his personal items. Taking out a scroll bound by sash, they

looked at each other and nodded in affirmation. One of the bandits raised his hand above his head and slapped the

camel on it's hind quarters, causing Shadigna to howl in bloody fear and gallop down the street.

Tears came down Mutajawal's cheeks as he watched his steed abandon her master.

He could not mourn for long. His captors closed in on him like a pair of swarthy scorpions, poised to stab him

with their stingers. One of the bandits drew his dagger as he raised it over his head, ready to slay Mutajawal.

Letting loose a muffled scream as if to beg for mercy, the merchant sobbed out in terror. The end was near.

-"No, Muhammed! The master wanted him alive!"

The other bandit blocked his arm and made him sheath it back.

-"Control yourself!"

Muhammed let out a loud growl as he obeyed his brother.

Mutajawal heard the sound of hoofs trotting in the street. Painfully looking out the side of his vision, he spotted

another dark bandit astride a horse-drawn carriage. Then all of a sudden, everything became blurry and

hard to distinguish. The dark apparel of the kidnappers receded into the dark and their voices became low and

slurred. Mutajawal's eyes glazed over as his body

went limp due to the heavy blow smitten over the top of his head.

Grabbing Mutajawal by the neck of his garment, Ahmed loaded their hostage into the back of the wooden wagon.

In a flash of horses and black turbans they rode like the wind down the bazaar, out the gates of Aghrabah.

...

_"My mind went blank. The last thing that I remembered was the loathsome voices of my abductors_

_swearing unspeakable oaths upon that dark night."_

...

Confusion filled Mutajawal's mind as loose images soared through his vision. A wall of darkness stood at the

far end of his scope as it came nearer to his mind's eye. His vision became clearer as the darkness

advanced quicker through the space. A light began to shine behind the wall like a halo of sunshine as the black

barrier overcame his view. Then he saw a glow as it swirled around in the air. It looked like a liquid of pure light

that existed in a large mass. As if he were within a body of water, he began to float to the surface of the gold

fluidic space. As he arrived closer to the surface, reflecting images cascaded upon the waters. They were

shapeless until they took on human form. They surrounded Mutajawal's vision as they roamed around the

land above. As if he submerged from a pool of water, his body was tossed hard upon the shore.

Then everything stayed blank white until Mutajawal wearily opened his eyes. His head swirled from his drowsy

coma as he lifted his sore head from the floor. He no longer felt cords binding his body so he could

pick himself up from off the ground. Massaging his arms, he looked around his surroundings above.

He saw that he was in some sort of cavern lined with flaming torches all around. Some where large burning

flames and some where small flickering candles. Looking down to level ground,

he gasped in surprise as he beheld a sight he would have rather not have seen. Surrounding his

position were horrid thugs armed with weapons all along their torsos. They were all garbed in black garments

and they had ferocious looks upon their faces. Some had turbans, some had fezzes, and some had their

faces completely hidden from view. They growled and showed their teeth as they brought forth their weapons.

They all looked like killers.

Mutajawal recoiled into a ball as he gaped at the demonic men. When he was about to yelp like a wounded pup in

dismay, he heard a dignified voice emanate from behind the gathering thugs.

-"Stand down men! Give this poor whelp some air!"

The men parted their ring attack from around Mutajawal as they made way for a tall man, completely shrouded

in a dark robe trimmed with gold fabric. At his side he had an intricate silver dagger hanging from his belt.

Mutajawal stood petrified, unable to move.

The man approached closer to the merchant, about an arm's length away. Removing his hood, he revealed his face.

Mutajawal's stomach churned as he stared into the mug of a middle-aged man with deformed and yellow teeth.

Earrings hanging from his lobes swayed from side to side as he looked the peddler over. Taking one step back, he

spread an outstretched arm as he said with a rough yet pleasant voice,

-"Welcome to the humble abode of... Calif bin Hassan Al-Abyad and his eleven cutthroats."


	7. Chapter VII : The Cutthroat Lord

CHAPTER VII

**THE CUTTHROAT LORD**

* * *

The leader's eyes gleamed in the torchlight with an odd gleeful beam as though his declaration of his own name

made his soul seem to leap out from within his features. Mutajawal stood stupefied by the sudden salutation the

man before him made upon their meeting. With mixed emotions, the merchant felt both aghast and a hint of a

mysterious sensation like that of admiration _with_ fear. The man's features resembled that of a savage pirate, yet

his gait and royal barring made him like that of a lord. Mutajawal did not know what to think, but he knew this: He

was in this man's custody.

Regaining some of his confidence, he felt that he could give a pleasantry in return to the leader before him.

Motioning his hand lightly over his bosom, the merchant gave a bow, more like a low nod, as he said humbly,

-"I am..._honored_ by your presence, oh great...great?"

Mutajawal's face grew pale and his gut seemed to lurch like a slug up into his throat as he could not recall the

man's name to save his life. The abashed merchant looked up with a nervous grimace as he made an inquiring

motion with his hand toward the man, implying for his name to be reiterated. With a half-controlled impatience, the

leader gave him a strange look as he said,

-"Calif, Calif bin Hassan...Al-Abyad."

Giving a smart bow with a graceful sway, he leaned forward as his jewelry clanged like chimes. Up this motion, the

scene behind him came into the scope of the merchant. Mutajawal had almost forgotten about the other villainous

thugs who were enclosed around his position, for most of his focus was upon the threat at hand: Calif.

Before Calif rose from his curvature, Mutajawal had a glimpse of them, still giving him loathsome glares. To his

astonishment, he even saw a man buffeting a bulky, spiked club upon his palm as if waiting for an opportune

moment to pummel him upon his capitulum. Mutajawal's confidence failed him and fear gripped his soul. Calif rose

ever so slowly like a bear rising upon its hind legs. He remarked wryly,

-"I hope your journey to my lair was not _too_ harsh. My men sometimes _do_ get... carried away."

He gave the merchant a menacing sneer as he became more unpleasant to look at than before.

Eerie silence followed their not so pleasant pleasantries. No one ventured to say more.

Mutajawal became more and more uneasy as Calif looked unblinkingly into his eyes, as if to burn a hole with his

glare into his heart. The atmosphere oddly became heavy and suffocating. A driving desire to flee the premises

became the merchants prerogative, either that or go insane. Breaking the silence, Mutajawal began to comment in

a ranting tone,

-"Uh, ha-ah-ha, uh... well that was a nice visit. I had a swell, a _swell_ time..."

Calif's face fell and his eyes squinted in confusion.

Now inching back a couple paces at a time, the merchant continued with a stutter,

-"...b-but I have this b-business to run, y-you see, and I really must be g-going!"

With an enormous amount of energy unnatural for a creature of his size, he turned on his heels with a screech and

dashed away from his company. His galloping echoed throughout the halls as he advanced toward the main gate.

He felt himself lift off the ground as the wind gushed under his legs due to his massive velocity.

_..._

_"I thought that I was making pretty good headway, until..."_

_..._

He thought his eyes were somehow deceiving him, but it appeared that the gate began to recede _away from_ him.

Thinking this odd and out of the ordinary, he tried to pick up more momentum by running faster, but it did no good.

He kept on retreating from his destination in a swifter movement. Mutajawal puffed in exhaustion and a sharp pain

arose from underneath his arms. At that he realized that the pain turned into a pinching sensation like that which is

caused when being hauled away. Looking up, he whimpered pitifully as he beheld two monstrous guards with their

metacarpi under his arms. Letting his extremities fall limp under the force of gravity, he surrendered to the

pair as they lugged him back toward his demise.

Plopping their bundle down like a sack of turmeric, the guards spun Mutajawal around to face the indignant

leader, towering above him in an unamused displeasure. Calif's eyes widened as he closed in around the merchant

like a thunder cloud, leaning down to his level, saying solemnly,

-"You are not going _anywhere_... peddler. You can either be my guest, and be sub_missive_, or you may be my

hostage, and _perish_."

Mutajawal whimpered as he gazed into the eyes of the menacing man.

-"I... will be... your guest,"

the merchant muttered under his breath.

-"Good,"

he responded in a heavy whisper,

-"_wise_ decision."

Rising up to his full hight, he grinned sappily. Dignified, almost pompously, he asked with a roaring voice,

-"I never_ did_ get your name."

-"Pardon?"

-"Your name! What is your name?"

Calif bellowed out.

The merchant shifted his weight nervously.

-"Mutajawal, that is my name."

Calif wryly looked upon him as one would a child,

-"So, Mutagawal..."

-"Um, it is Mu-_taj_-awal."

-"So be it,"

he responded ignorantly,

-"I see you are already acquainted with Wahid and Ithnan, my loyal guards."

The monstrous duo simultaneously gave the merchant a rumbling gurr, like a pair of tame tigers.

Mutajawal looked up hesitantly at the two bald men, whose remaining hairs were streaming

down in single trim locks. Calif gave an amused snicker under his breath as he looked down upon

his guest.

-"Do not worry, peddle. They do not bite... real bad."

Mutajawal gave an uneasy chuckle as he looked at Calif, before he made a face

of distress to the side.

-"Now come,"

Calif proclaimed as he put an arm around the merchant,

-"you shall meet the rest of my men."

Mutajawal groaned in his throat as he thought of the horrible ordeal he would have to witness.

Coming to the first group of men, Calif introduced them pleasurably,

-"Mutagawal, these two men are Ahmed and Muhammed, brothers of malice. They were your... escorts

earlier this night."

Mutajawal gazed at the two cutthroats. Even in broad daylight their features were hidden from view

within their mysterious masks of black. They stood still, _eerily_ still. Mutajawal was relieved when he

left their sight. Like one singular organism, their heads turned at the same time as they watched the

merchant move on.

-"This man... is Sikayn."

Mutajawal looked at the ruffled man. A goatee jutted out like another limb from his chin, and then flailed out

in disarray. He wore a turban upon head that hung from its mass like a spring down around toward his long

neck. He had unusually long eyelashes, but what made the merchant's heart to skip a beat for most of all were the

man's yellow eyes.

-"He is my second in command here, and some of his own men have joined _my_ league."

Sikayn made an ugly sneer at Calif, a taunting one that had hatred written all over it. Calif returned a concealed

glare of vexation, causing Sikayn to back down. Mutajawal did not like him at all. Startling Mutajawal as he

practically yanked him aside, Calif lured him over toward the other side of his minions.

-"These two are Gazeem and Kasul, the inseparable set of..."

Calif turned his face away toward the merchant, whispering aloud exasperatedly,

-"...set of buffoons!"

Mutajawal gave the leader a look of disgust before he turned back to his men and continued,

-"...set of thieving sleuths of my cohorts."

Looking at the two men before him ,who were no taller than himself, Mutajawal thought them to be an

unimpressive pair. The one named Kasul could barely keep his eyes open. He was quite untidy and his turban slowly

sank below his bushy uni-brow. But the one named Gazeem made the merchant feel uneasy. Plastered upon the

stout man's face was a sadistic grin, a grin one would make in the presence of gold. A rag fastened around his head

hung down to his chins. Hair stuck out from the cloth in a greasy wave. Mutajawal staggered in surprise when the

troll murmured aloud in a villainous high croaky voice,

-"Pleasure to meet you... friend."

Gazeem clasped his hands together as his grin enveloped his entire face, causing his eyes to narrow connivingly.

With a wheezing inhale, he let out a snort and then a demonic guffaw. Flabbergastedly discombobulated, Mutajawal

withdrew back into a cower. Tripping over his cursed sandals, the merchant fell backwards upon the sooty ground,

causing a cloud of dust to rise from his plunge. His turban bounced upon the rocks like a rubber ball as his head hit

the floor. Mutajawal looked like a beached fish as he lay limp in a bundle. Before he could pick up his weary body,

his ears perked up when he heard a hair raising screech. The thought of rodents and vermin filled his mind at the

shrill. Scurrying like a crab with the palms of his hands, Mutajawal rose to his rump in terror. To his surprise, the

screech sounded again, but from the lungs of a tiny, not taken seriously, midget. He was the smallest man

Mutajawal had ever seen. Leting go of his tense posture, the merchant lumped down again in relief. But before he

could say a word, the midget let loose another shriek as he unsheathed a dagger and lunged at Mutajawal. The

merchant yipped in surprise as the blade fell an *assba away from his nose, before it pricked him like a cushion. In a

squeaky voice, the rodent barked out,

-"Get up you clumsy vaggie-bond! Or I is will harvest that potatie of yours!"

Grabbing his injured nose for protection from the scythe-like weaponry, Mutajawal scrambled to his feet to escape

the little assassin.

-"Stand down, Qalil! Is that how you treat your guest,"

Calif bellowed.

-"Keep your toys to yourself,"

the leader said annoyed.

-"Forgive him for his misbehavior. He is easily aroused. He could have skinned you like a rat if I let him."

Mutajawal looked at the little man in horror for his hideous intentions.

-"Now for the last members of my crew."

As Calif led Mutajawal away from his last encounters, Qalil showed his fang-like teeth and hissed like a feline.

Mutajawal hurried his pace at the unnerving sight and moved along toward the other side of the chamber.

-"This... is Tarbush, the silent-death archer..."

Mutajawal faced a tall lean man with long pitch-black hair and a tall fez that sat upon his cob-shaped head. Laying

his eyes upon the merchant, he pluck his bow with a loud snap, causing it to echo like how an iron-tipped whip

would produce.

Mutajawal flinched at the noise and took a causious step back.

-"...Ali, the whip master..."

The homely cutthroat growled viciously as he smartly wrapped his torture utility around his bare, hairy arm. He

gripped it tautly along his wrist until his veins began to protrude. He then stripped it off with brute strength causing

it to crack painfully across his flesh. He did not flinch a hair from such agony.

...

_"Pain was something that I would gladly miss_

_out on."_

...

Mutajawal stared at the man, filled with horror, praying in his heart that his tender body would be spared from such

a weapon.

-"...and lastly, Al-Dub, the Swordsman of Damashq."

When the merchant beheld the man, right away he knew why he was dubbed such a name, for one: his face was

entirely consumed by sparse facial hair, like a bear. And two: his stature towered far higher than most of Calif's

men, making him undeniably appear... _grizzly_. Before Mutajawal could gasp upon eye-contact of his ghastly

appearance, Al-Dub skillfully unsheathed a pair of toothed scimitars from out of his back, spun them upon his wrists

a *qabda away from each of the merchant's ears, tossed them loftily into the air, and caught them both with a clang

an assba away from his nose. The cutthroat's sudden movements created a torrent to blast upon Mutajawal's face,

causing him to squint as he gulped with a snivel.

Calif laughed to see such sport as he patted the merchant upon his shoulders, saying spitefully,

-"Never cross swords with that brute, little man. You would never survive."

Mutajawal felt abashed at the man's remark, for he knew that he was right. He looked away from Calif ashamedly,

landing his eyes upon the stone floor.

The cutthroat lord smirked as he huffed in amusement. Turning to his men, he bellowed out a stately command,

-"That will be all men. RETURN TO YOUR POSTS! Wahid, Ithnan! Escort our _guest _to my chamber.

See to it that he is made... comfortable."

Turning smartly on his heels, he marched away as he lifted his hood over his grayed head and glided into the

darkness. Mutajawal watched intently at the man as he receded into the black passages.

Lowering his eyes toward the ground, he saw the umbras of two pillar-like objects ominously engulf his own

shadow. Sighing miserably, Mutajawal allowed the two guards to lay their massive hands upon his side as they led

the merchant to the chamber room of the Cutthroat Lord.


End file.
